


Before the Fall

by JackKvale



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Addiction, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Coming of Age, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Handsome Jack & Timothy Lawrence are Twins, Homophobia, Jack Has Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22524718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackKvale/pseuds/JackKvale
Summary: “Jack,” The name that was whispered was different, a name that Jack chose for himself and a name that only Timmy knew. It was a special name- a name that their mother hadn’t turned sour yet.“What?” Jack responded, smiling at his twin.“I hope we come here every summer.” Jack nodded, filling his bucket with sand and patting it with his shovel.“I do too.” He looked back towards his mother, who was sitting on the beach reading old magazines. Despite their high hopes, neither little boy would return to this beach until many, many years later with more than pails and shovels weighing them down.
Relationships: Handsome Jack & Tim, Handsome Jack / bad times
Series: Second Chances [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705792
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay attention to the tags and warnings.  
> Current Archive Warnings may not appear until later chapters; they serve as a content warning for the fic as a whole.
> 
> New tags and warnings will be added with each chapter.  
> This story is marked as Mature because, well, it deals with some heavy stuff, especially down further down the road. Will most likely shift to explicit for later chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Graphic/Depiction of abuse

“C’mon, Tim.” Jack nudged his brother’s shoulder. “We gotta get to school before the witch gets up.” It was no secret the twins equally despised their grandmother, and Jack wanted to do whatever he could to limit the time spent in the house. If that meant getting up early and coming home late, so be it. He nudged his brother again, harder this time, and Tim snorted awake. 

“Wha-” He asked, eyes opening up to stare at his twin. “Gods- you scared me, Jack.” He mumbled. “How are you even this tall right now?” The two shared a bunk bed, Tim sleeping up top. 

“Used your desk chair. C’mon, get up and get dressed.” Jack jumped off his perch and went to finish getting ready for the day-- stuffing a single notebook, pencil, and a small medicine bottle filled with rolling papers and a few ounces of weed into his backpack. 

“Ya know that’s a gateway drug?” Tim asked, and Jack shrugged. 

“That’s a load of bull, Tim. Besides, I do this for uh- anks.. Anz-?” 

“Anxiety?” Tim raised a brow in judgement and Jack snapped his fingers, grinning at his brother. 

“Yeah, that.” He smiled and slung his backpack on his shoulder. Tim sighed and moved to finish getting dressed. 

“Just don’t get caught, okay? I can only get you out of detention so many times before the office stops believing me.” 

“You’ve got a silver tongue and you’re one of the smartest kids in school,” Jack turned to his twin, mismatched eyes staring into their mirrors. “Like they’d stop believing you.” He smiled, patted his brother’s cheek, and then turned to leave. As Tim stopped to refill their cat’s food and water dishes, Jack stood patiently by the front door, watching their grandmother’s bedroom for any sign of movement. As soon as his morning task was done, Tim slung his backpack over his shoulder and the pair quickly left the house to walk to school. 

“I’ll see ya in 3rd hour.” Jack nodded, ducking away from the front entrance towards the rear end of the building. Tim sighed and rubbed his forehead. Of course Jack was going to skip his morning classes. 

As Juniors, Jack and Timothy were only two years away from freedom. They were a few weeks into September, and already Tim was concerned that Jack wouldn’t graduate on time. He skipped classes, got into fights, talked back to teachers-- and his drug use was concerning. Sure, it was only weed, but Tim had the sinking feeling in his gut that it could easily turn into something far more serious. Jack was good at hiding things, and Tim was sure there was stuff he didn’t even know about. But Jack was smart, and Tim knew that his brother would be okay in the end. 

He had to be. 

* * *

“Keep your back straight- that’s it.” Jack stood taller and squared his shoulders, looking to his instructor. “Don’t tense so much. Remember, you are floating. Strings hold you to the ground.” She reached over and fixed the positioning of his fingers on the neck of his violin and Jack adjusted his own neck accordingly. Her thick accent made it difficult to understand her instructions in the beginning, but he learned her mannerisms of speech over time. 

Jack remembered when he first came to her- her office building was down the street from Tim’s piano lessons, and while Jack had hated it with every fiber of his being, he was good. Really good. At the start he would panic at the sour notes, he would freeze, he would feel like crying, but he channeled it all into being better. He would be better- he would be good at this if it killed him. Mostly, he wanted to prove it to his grandmother that he wasn’t a total failure. He wouldn’t let her stop him from living out the best life he could. It was a heavy load to put on the shoulders of an eleven year old, but Yana helped lift it over the years- and now, at 17 years old, the weight was easier to bare. Yana helped him grow. 

“Perfect-” Yana smiled as Jack worked the strings, making beautiful music that made her think of home. “Jack,” She smiled. Jack stopped playing when she said his name- his name, not something others thought was his name. “You improve each day… Keep going.” Jack smiled and he continued to play- not needing the sheet music at this point. He had been playing for six years now, and only needed the music when it was a new or particularly difficult piece.  
At the end of his lesson, the violin safely tucked away under Yana’s workbench, Jack did something for the first time. He reached out and hugged her tightly, pressing his cheek into her shoulder. 

“Thank you Yana.” He said softly. Jack could never bring his violin home- fearing that his grandmother would break it. By this point in his life she had stopped paying for his lessons. Yana did this out of the goodness of her heart, and despite Jack never believing he was worth the trouble he was thankful for everything Yana did. 

“No thanks,” Yana smiled and she hugged him back. “You deserve goodness, Jack. You will get goodness.” He would never admit it, but it was there in Yana’s arms that Jack let his walls finally crumble down. He cried as she held him, and afterwards Yana made them both tea and they sat on her couch, listening to old records of string music late into the night. 

* * *

“Don’t you fucking understand what a curfew is?!” His grandmother’s screams fell on indifferent ears, but Jack couldn’t help but wince at the cursing. All he wanted to do was go to bed, but of course she _had_ to be awake and waiting for him in the living room- between him and the hallway to his safety. He knew Tim was probably asleep by this point. It was late, and he stunk of weed and liquor-- evidence of a night spent alone in the school parking lot. 

“Are you even hearing me?” His grandmother stood, and she reached out to grab Jack’s arm. He wrenched himself away and her eyes quickly grew wide and angry. “How _dare_ you, you little fuck.” Jack ducked out of her next grab and tried to run down the hallway. Lou Ellen was a large woman, but she could move. Before he could even step foot into the hallway, Jack was tugged backwards by his shirt collar. He choked, and turned only to be struck full force. He reached up with both arms to protect his face- hoping his forearms would catch the brunt of her hits. 

“Stop! Stop it, Grandma--” Jack pleaded, but she pushed him to the floor and kicked him in the side. 

“I’ll teach you to disobey me.” She spat out, reaching down to grab him by his hair and tug him into the kitchen. Tears were leaking out at the sharp pain in his scalp, and he fought back against her strong grip to no avail. She picked up a heavy wooden spoon, and Jack closed his eyes as she brought it down against his rib cage repeatedly, smacking his face and his shoulders too. “You little shit. You should know how to be home by curfew- or are you too dumb to understand? Is that it? You’re too stupid to get it?” She smacked him on the head again and Jack could have sworn he saw stars. He was boiling on the inside with rage, but he struggled to fight back. It felt like something was weighing down his hands- fear that if he did resist, things would get worse. But that rage inside his belly was stronger than his fear. Reaching up with both hands again, he managed to grab the spoon. 

“I’m not stupid- you’re just a bitch!” Jack spat in his grandmother’s face, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. He didn’t care if he lost hair from her grip-- he just wanted out! But suddenly, there was a tight pressure around his neck and Jack’s eyes widened. Warbled air came sputtering out of his mouth as his grandmother choked him. Jack fought back, trying to hit her with the spoon that was now his, but she shoved him to the floor and pinned him down, both hands around his throat now. _Oh fuck she’s gonna strangle me._ He stared up at her, clawing at her hands. 

“Try insulting me now, you idiot.” She hissed, black hair slipping out of its disgusting bun on top of her head. Jack’s legs kicked, and he fought for air desperately.

“Grandma-” A new voice entered the scene and Jack felt that fear spike back up in his chest. _No. No. NO- Tim go back to bed._ Jack kicked even more, fighting harder now so she’d be too distracted to hear his brother. “Grandma stop! You’re killing him!” Tim stared in fear at the scene, his grandmother hunched over Jack, hands on his throat. His brother’s lips were turning blue and his face a deep red. “Stop it!” He knew better than to touch her, because in this mood she would just turn on him. “Stop! You’re gonna kill him!” 

Their grandmother heard Tim’s cries, and all at once let go of Jack’s neck. Air tore into his throat and Jack coughed, turning onto his side as soon as his grandmother was off of him. His stomach lurched and Jack vomited on the floor, lungs working overtime to get air to the rest of his body. Their grandmother stood and she stared at Tim- slapping him as she went down the hall to her own bedroom. 

It wasn’t the first time Jack had been strangled within an inch of his life, but this was one of the closest of calls. Tim slowly sat his twin up, getting him a cup of water to sip at. Jack’s head screamed at him and his eyes were bloodshot. 

“Thanks…” Jack wheezed out, and Tim shushed him. It wasn’t a good idea to talk just yet. Tim stood up and got his brother into their bedroom- laying him out in his lower bunk. Jack held the water protectively, and he swallowed thickly. It _hurt_. Jack’s body ached, throat burned and his head continued to spin even in the blissfully dark room. The booze and weed from earlier was definitely not helping at the moment. Tim, though, was a gift from the gods. He smiled weakly at his twin, who returned it with a small, tired sigh. 

“Get some sleep.” Tim said softly, before slipping back into the hallway to clean the kitchen. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: F-slur is used in this chapter.

“No hats, John. You know school policy.” The class all turned to stare at Jack, who was in the desk farthest from the teacher’s chair. He was slouched down, jacket zipped up, sunglasses and a baseball cap low over his face. “C’mon, hat off.” The teacher said again, and Jack glared at him-- not that anyone could see with everything hiding his appearance. “I’ll send you to detention if you’re incapable of following directions.” Jack’s sigh came out a broken rumble from deep in his chest- He fucking hated detention, and after spending the previous afternoon there, he didn’t want to do so again. Jack took off the hat- exposing deep bruising that peaked out along his hairline, and the teacher held in a sigh. “Sunglasses too, John.” The teen licked his lips in thought. _Of course he noticed that. Smug bastard_. Slowly, he reached up to remove the dark lenses. His blue eye was swollen with a heavy black ring, and there were red and purple welts along his jaw. 

Some students gasped and openly stared at him while others, the assholes, just laughed. Jack often came to school with bruises- but they were usually well hidden beneath shirt sleeves and sweater necks. If people did see the bruises, he managed to pass it off as some fight he was in. Today was not the usual, and so rumors of Jack getting beat up circulated quickly and morphed into a menagerie of things.

At lunch, he sat across from his brother. He wore his sunglasses again, but his jacket had to be unzipped because it was pressing painfully against the bruises around his throat. He ate silently- that is until other lunch trays invaded his vision. He looked up and saw Jesse Bryer-- Jack’s number one rival --sitting next to Tim, and his three goons taking up the other seats surrounding them at their lone table. 

“Heard you forgot your safe word with your boyfriend last night.” Jesse grinned, eyeing the visible blemishes on Jack’s skin. He reached over and snagged a couple fries off of Jack’s lunch tray. He stared at Jesse through his glasses. 

“Stay out of it, Bryer.” Tim pleaded quietly. 

“Calm down, buttercup.” Jesse reached over and patted Tim’s cheek. “John and I are just having a quaint conversation.” Jack clenched his jaw, left hand gripping his plastic lunch tray hard. “So- What he do? Choke collar a little too tight? Had too much fun with the paddle?” Jesse smiled and his goons laughed- making Jack’s hackles raise. 

“He’s real quiet today, boss.” One spoke up, and Jesse nodded in agreement. 

“Real quiet today… What is it? Cat got your tongue? Or is it burnt out from screaming some guy’s name in an alleyway.” 

“I’m not gay.” Jack worked out. His voice was rough, and deeper than usual. Jesse’s eyebrows rose in amusement. 

“It speaks!” He smiled, lifting his hand. He draped an arm around Tim’s shoulders, despite the twin trying to shrug him off. “And yeah, no, that thing where you let some dude fuck you? That’s gay.” Jack let out a frustrated sigh and tried to go back to eating- but Jesse reached over and snatched the sunglasses off his face. “Whoa-” Jesse laughed, leaning back at the full sight of Jack’s bruised face. “Bit of a masochist, Johnny Boy?” Jack sent a glare his way before glancing at Tim, who was still pinned under Jesse’s arm. 

“Get off my brother.” Jack’s voice was calm, but there was a threat there if you listened hard enough. 

“Gay boy says what?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he slipped on Jack’s sunglasses. 

“I said, get off my brother.” He said again, sitting up straighter. “And drop the language.” Jesse’s goons straightened up when Jack started to shift. 

“Why? Timmy and I are buds, right?” He asked, turning to Tim. The young man stayed silent, but Jack could tell he was uncomfortable. “We’re friends- and Tim’s okay with cussing. So why don’t you fuck off to the bathroom? I’m sure there’s a dick to suck there.” 

“You gotta stop swearing.” Jack said, shaking his head. “And you need to get off my brother. Now.” Jesse arched one brow. 

“Make me, you fucking faggot.” The anger that had been building all day- all week, came bursting out- and Jack lunged across the lunch table to grab at Jesse’s face and shoulder. Lunch trays fell to the floor and the table tipped to it’s side as Jack shoved Jesse into the wall. Suddenly, the glinting edge of a switchblade was pressed against the bully’s neck. 

“You touch my brother again and I’ll slit your fucking throat.” Jack’s voice was quiet, but hearing him swear made Jesse’s goons go still. Lawrence never swore- never. “Don’t think I won’t do it, you ass-clown.” Despite his cool exterior, Jesse was panicking. Jack could see it in his eyes. He liked that look. Part of him wondered if that was what Lou Ellen saw when she looked Jack, but he shoved that thought way back into the recesses of his mind. He didn’t need to analyse himself, not right now. Not when he had an asshole to deal with.

“You couldn’t kill me,” Jesse hissed. “You’re too much of a coward.” Jack pressed the blade harder against Jesse’s throat- cutting the first few layers of skin just to make the other bleed to show that yes, Jack could do it. And in that moment, Jack wanted to. He was no stranger to fights. To hurting people. The school yard had horror stories of a young man who blinded another boy after snack time- some saying with a stick while others swore it was with the kids own jello spoon. All that fire in his gut, anger at his home, his grandmother, this school, everything- it needed out. What better way than this?  
All of a sudden, Jack was wrenched away from Jesse and his switchblade taken from him- security guards pinning Jack to the floor. 

“Get Bryer to the nurse's office.” An order was barked. “John,” The head guard glared down at the angry boy. “You just messed up. Big time.” 

* * *

“He brought a four inch switchblade on school grounds, _and_ attacked one of our star students with it. I don’t understand why he hasn’t been expelled and put in handcuffs already!” Mr. Ditchit, the school’s guidance counselor, spoke with angry vigor in the principal's office. Jack sat slumped in one of the two chairs, rolling his eyes. 

“If you’re gonna push for my expulsion might as well be truthful about it,” Jack huffed. “It’s six inches, and he got what was coming to him.” He crossed his arms. “He wouldn’t leave me and my brother alone. I keep telling you, Mr. Tucklar,” he spoke to the principal directly. “Bryer’s an asshole- he spreads rumors about me and my brother and makes my life hell-” 

“You think that’s a good enough excuse to cut a student’s throat with a switchblade?” Mr. Ditchit asked, and Jack shrugged his shoulders in defense- eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, I do!” 

“Enough, you two. John, you’ll be going to in-school-suspension while I decide your punishment for hurting Mr. Bryer. You’re lucky you haven’t been carted off by the police yet.” 

“Do I at least get my knife back?” Jack’s knee bounced while his nails picking at the stitching in the chair’s fabric. “It’s a family heirloom.” 

“We’ll see.” Jack slumped further into his chair- two things on his mind. One, getting his knife back, and two, he needed to check on Tim.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack’s shoulders were hunched, trailing behind Tim as the two made their way home through the backroads. Tim looked straight ahead, ignoring the crunch of gravel beneath Jack’s shoes as he was followed. Tim was upset. Well, no. Not upset. He was mad. Mad at Jack. And what did Tim do when he was mad? Give him the silent treatment. Jack hated that more than anything Tim could use to punish him. He really didn’t mind silence, but this pointed quiet made Jack feel uneasy and his head stoop lower. He hated feeling like this, like he was guilty. He hadn’t done anything worth being guilty over, so why did he feel like shit?  
Oh, right. Tim was mad at him. 

“You know, it could have gone worse.” Jack broke the silence, watching for any sign that Tim was listening to him. “Coulda gone to juvie instead of getting suspended. _That_ would’ve sucked.” A dry laugh eked out, but it was cut short when Tim stopped walking. He stood stock still for a moment, before turning around to glare at Jack. “What? It’s a joke.” The knot that had been in Jack’s gut got worse at that look.

“It’s not fucking funny, Jack.” Tim cussed, and Jack bit the inside of his cheek. 

“Tim, langu-” 

“I know. Gods- I know.” Tim pressed a hand to his forehead, letting out an irritated sigh. “I can’t keep doing this, Jack. You could’ve gotten in serious trouble. I can’t help you if you go to jail.” Tim thrummed against his chest, the thud sound clear as day. “Detention? Fine, but _Jail_?” Tim shook his head in frustration. 

“Well, I mean I wouldn’t have gone to jail, I’m still a minor.” 

“You could’ve killed him, Jack. This isn’t like you’re a little kid fighting on the playground anymore.” Jack rolled his eyes, knowing full well that he’d done much worse to kids on the playground in those days. “I mean, you pulled dad’s knife on him!” Tim shook his head, looking up at the sky for a moment before sighing. “I can get you out of problems, but that doesn’t mean they go away. You _know_ that everything you’ve done is still on your record, right?” Tim gave Jack an expectant stare, but Jack only shrugged. “Right? Answer me, Jack.” 

“Tim, that record’s not gonna last much longer than high school anyway. It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s not like I’d do it again.” He shrugged his shoulders, hands stiff in his pockets. There was a very high chance that Jack _would_ in fact do it again, if one looked at his history of semi-violent behavior. Even the teachers at school knew- they had a pool on when Jack would finally be expelled or sent away. 

“You and I both know that’s not true.” Tim shook his head, turning to look away and hide his face. Jack failed to see the emotion building up behind those eyes. “You always do this. You mess up, and I’m left to pick up the pieces.” Now that just made Jack feel angry. Tim was blaming Jack for how he felt on _him_? No way was Jack going to let that stand. 

“What pieces are there to pick up, Tim? We’re in the clear! I don’t get why you’re so mad. He wouldn’t leave you alone- I did that for you. Everything I’ve ever done I’ve done for _you_ , Tim.” Tim covered his face for a moment with shaking hands, and Jack snapped his mouth shut when he heard Tim’s breath warble into a whimper. What was he- Was Tim crying? “Crap-” Jack was taken aback, but he stepped closer and reached an awkward hand out to try and console him. “Don’t cry, Timmy. It’s fine. It’s fine, I’m okay, you’re okay.” Tim brought his hands down to his side, and Jack gave him a concerned look. “You’re okay, right?” 

Tim was quiet for a long time, face turned down to the dirt as he angrily wiped at the tears in his eyes. The continued silence didn’t help Jack’s twisting gut, his guilt only growing. He hated making Tim cry. Slowly, Tim brought his head back up and squared his shoulders. Those miss-matched eyes were red-rimmed, but Tim’s face was straight and calm. 

“I’m fine.” A smile broke out over Jack’s face, and he stepped forward, draping an arm around Tim’s shoulders. Crisis averted. He let go a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and patted Tim on the chest as he pushed the two of them along towards home.

“See, didn’t I say so? We’re fine. We’re gonna be just fine, Tim.” 

* * *

He’d gone there to say hi. To check in. Last time she said she’d have a new tea for him to try out when he came back. The porch light was out, so Jack sat on the stoop to wait. Maybe she was still getting home from the grocer’s. 

The street lamps flicked on and a curling discomfort grew in his gut. She was just late, wasn’t she? Maybe she had a few more errands to run than he’d thought. 

Another hour went by before Jack tried knocking again. The porch door swung open. _Huh._ Stepping inside, he saw a pink note taped to the front door. It took a moment for Jack to read it in the dark, but once he did his heart crashed to the floor. 

**Public Notice: Foreclosure**

“What the-” Jack shook his head and read it again, tearing the thing off the door. It had to be a trick of the light or something. That couldn’t be… But it was. Jack looked back up at the wooden door and felt his heart sink even lower, down into the dirt below the house. “No… This is… It’s gotta be a joke.” Jack tried to open it, but the house was locked up. He shook the knob, frustration mixing into that painful feeling in his belly. 

He ditched the paper and went around back, trying the other door. It was closed tight, too. “Gods-” Jack’s chest grew tight. Something was wrong- he could feel it. Looking around, Jack saw a window on the second floor near the storm drain. That would work. Using the back stoop’s rail, Jack clambered up the side of the house- wincing when splinters lodged themselves in his palm. Reaching the window Jack tried to shimmy it open- groaning with effort. When the that seal finally broke, Jack fell inwards and tumbled over himself onto the hard flooring. Groaning as he stood, Jack rubbed the back of his head and looked around- the ache in his body quickly overshadowed by anxiety. 

“Where-” Where was everything? Her bookshelves and paintings- the trunk that’d been in her family for generations? “What?” Shaking his head, Jack moved to check the next room, finding that empty too. Each room he went in snuffed out the hope he had burning in his chest bit by bit. The first floor- the living room, was bare as bone. Her rugs, shelves, music stands and couch. The warm lamps and picture frames on the tables, everything was gone. Jack could feel his breath growing fast, panic setting in. Where did everything go? She wouldn’t have just up and moved, right? She would have told him. Yana would tell him if she was planning something like that. 

“The shed.” Jack gulped, running towards the backdoor. He forced it open and ran across the yard towards a small shed in the corner of the lot. When he reached it, Jack’s stomach turned again. There was a padlock on the latch and Jack remembered, he didn’t have a key. “Shit.” His voice cracked, and Jack could feel the prickling of tears in his eyes. “Shit.” He turned, looking for something, anything, he could use to bash open the lock. Deciding on a stone he’d found in her garden, Jack began striking it, over and over. The ring of metal hurt his ears and Jack’s hand ached, knuckles getting caught on the latch when he missed his mark. It was dark and getting harder and harder to see by the minute. 

Suddenly the lock gave way and Jack let out a relieved sound, voice catching in his throat. He chucked the rock off to the side and rose- pushing open the old wooden door. It was untouched. Pliers and resin and extra pegs just where they’d left them last he was here. Going to the workbench, Jack let go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. It was still here. He scooped the case up against his chest, hugging it tight. It was still here. 

“Ey!” Suddenly Jack was blinded by a beam of light, and he nearly fell on his ass from the fright of it. “What’re you doing in there?” It took a moment for Jack to find his words. 

“Cool it with the light, alright? Crap, man, I’m not doing anything.” 

“Sure looks like you’re up to something, breaking into my property and smashing my locks.” The shock on Jack’s face turned to one of confusion, and he slowly stood up, the flashlight beam slowly drifting down so Jack wasn’t overwhelmed by light anymore. 

“What did you say?” Jack asked, his grip never wavering on the case. “This… This isn’t yours- Yana, Yana Vladislavovich owns this place.” The face of the short, balding man before him went from angry, to pity.

“You don’t know?” He asked, and Jack shook his head. 

“Don’t know what? What happened? Her house is empty- what, she not make rent or something?” Jack felt anger bloom in his chest. “You the landlord? Did you kick her out-” He was ready to advance when the other man raised his hands in self defence. 

“No, No I didn’t-” He shook his head. “She died.” All the fire inside went out, and Jack stood there frozen. 

“Wh… What?” He couldn’t recognize his own voice. 

“She died a week ago. Sold her stuff at an estate sale a few days ago. Was gonna have a lock-smith come tomorrow to open up that shed for me.” _This can’t be happening._ It felt like somebody had stuffed cotton down his throat. _I know she was old but I thought there was more time._ He hated the hot wetness gathering in the corner of his eyes, hated the dizziness blossoming in his head. “Did you know her, son?” Jack was pulled out of his thoughts by the landlord, who stepped forward. Even in the dark, it wasn’t hard to tell that Jack was upset by the news. Wordlessly, he nodded. “She didn’t have any family, according to the neighbors.” Jack nodded again. “She was just some lonely music teacher.” Jack felt his lower lip begin to quiver so he harshly bit the inside of his cheek. _Just some lonely music teacher_. Guilt settled in his belly. He should have been here. She didn’t deserve to… to be alone at the end. “Do you know anybody by the name of Jack?” 

“Hmm?” Jack blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. 

“Do you know anybody named Jack? Only thing in the house I could find in terms of a will was some letter addressed to him.” Slowly, Jack nodded. 

“I-I am.” He worked out. “I’m Jack.” He gulped, the grip on the case in his arms growing tighter. 

“Well shit.” The landlord nodded, turning the flashlight to the ground. “I got the letter in my truck, follow me.” 

* * *

“Hiya Tim.” Tim looked up, a smile on his face when he recognized a friend. 

“Janey! What’re you doing here, don’t you have practice?” He closed the book he’d been reading and shifted so Janey could join him at his table. The library was quiet, as it usually was. Growing up in a small town meant there weren’t many kids who used it after school.

“Nah. I got outta that.” She lifted the hem of her sleeve, a bandage covering a good chunk of her upper arm. Tim’s eyes rose in shock, concern clear as day. “Don’t worry- convinced them it was some rathyd scratch when really,” She peeled it back, exposing black ink and reddened skin. “It’s a new tattoo. No way was I going to swim with this thing.” Tim let out a sigh of relief, leaning back in his seat. 

“Is that a kraggon? What, you’ve got two of those now, right?”

“Yep! Slowly building up my collection.” Janey sent him a wink. “How’re you holding up?” After a confused look from Tim, Janey arched her brow. “You know, all that drama with Bryers? The whole school heard about it.” The smile on Tim’s face faded. 

“I’ve been alright.” He shrugged. “It’s not the first time Jack got into a fight on school grounds. Just the first time he’s been stupid enough to bring a knife into it.” 

“So that rumor _is_ true.” Janey nodded, sucking on her teeth for a moment. “Did you get it back?” 

“Yeah, after I did like a million favors for admin.” Tim rolled his eyes. “You have no idea how busy I’m going to be for the next two weeks.” 

“What’ve they got you doing?” Tim’s head rolled forward, his chin resting against his chest. 

“Tutoring freshman for the lit cumulative at the end of term.” Janey sucked in a breath of sympathy and gave Tim a pat on his shoulder. 

“Sorry mate.” 

“He didn’t even thank me, either, ya know.” Tim lifted his head, moving to rest his chin on top of his closed textbook. “He acted like he did _me_ a favor. I mean,” Tim let out a frustrated sigh. “He stood up for me, but he couldn’t even see why what happened was so _bad_.” Janey hummed, a disappointed tilt to her tone. 

“Couldn’t, or didn’t want to?” She asked, brow arched. There was a weight to that question Tim didn’t want to think about, so he shook his head. 

“See, I don’t even know. He’s so cryptic-” Sitting up, Tim threw his hands up in the air. “Like, I haven’t seen him in almost a week. He could’ve gotten in another fight or be dead in a ditch somewhere for all I know.” Tim crossed his arms and leaned forward, hiding his face against the table. 

“Doesn’t he usually go missing after something like this?” She hummed, and Tim groaned, sitting back up. 

“Not for this long. I’d go to the cops but Jack would wring my neck if I sent police looking for him.” Tim ran a hand through his hair and gave Janey a tired look. “All I can do is wait and see what happens.” Janey gently nodded her head and reached across the table to place her hand on Tim’s shoulder. 

“He’ll come back. He always does, Tim. What’dya say we get outta here and hit up the arcade? I heard they’ve got a new skee-ball machine.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jack finally came home a few days after Janey and Tim’s talk in the library, and while Lou Ellen certainly had something to say about his absence, Tim luckily knew to keep his mouth shut. For a good week, their grandmother would hound him with insults and thwacks from her spoon. Jack didn’t have the patience for questions or accusations and it showed in his reaction to their grandmother’s latest thrashing. By the end of their fight, Jack wasn’t the only one to walk- or limp, in his case -away with bruises. He’d been pretty proud of himself, even while Tim was patching him up in the bathroom.   
Jack leaned over and spat blood into the sink, sneering at the copper that hung on his tongue. His eye would definitely be swollen shut in the morning, and his ribs wouldn’t look too pretty either, but Jack’s heart still sung knowing that he’d managed to get a few good punches in there too. That pride showed on his face, and it made Tim smile, just a little bit. 

“What?” Jack asked, his question quickly followed up by a wince when Tim applied antiseptic to a cut just above his eyebrow. 

“Nothing. It’s just nice to see you smiling again.” Jack nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. “You know,” Tim said, grabbing a butterfly bandage to apply to that same cut. “You could tell me what’s bugging you.” 

“Tim…” He  _ so  _ did not want to have this conversation, not now and probably not ever. 

“I know, I know. I’m not asking you to, and I’m not gonna make you. I just…” Tim sighed, and he leaned back against the bathroom sink. A soft chirping drew their attention, and Jack watched as the little tabby Tim so lovingly called Speckles jumped up onto the counter beside him. Jack leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, watching Tim scoop the little thing up into his arms and press his face her neck. Jack knew he’d stayed gone for too long. Tim had probably been worried sick over him, but he just couldn’t muster the strength to leave Yana’s. After that talk with the landlord, reading that letter she’d written him… He just couldn’t leave. The only reason he came back home in the first place was ‘cause he got caught squatting there. 

“Spit it out, Tim.” Jack was sick of how scared Tim was to speak his mind. Sure, Lou Ellen was the reason he was frightened of his own shadow, but Tim didn’t need to be scared around Jack.  _ I’d never hurt him _ , Jack thought to himself. “I’m not gonna be mad.” Hugging Speckles to his chest, Tim took a deep breath and nodded. 

“You keep shutting me out, Jack. I… I know you don’t like talking about stuff that upsets you but- but you’ve gotta talk to me.” Tim’s brows knitted together and he let Speckles slip from his arms, the cat chirping as she made her way down the hall to their bedroom. “You were gone for a week, Jack. I didn’t know where you were and you weren’t answering your comm, and I just… I got scared, alright? I had no idea if you were okay or not-” 

“I was at Yana’s.” Jack hated how desperate Tim was to know everything- how much he needed to know Jack’s every move. It was suffocating, but Jack understood. He didn’t  _ get _ it, but he understood. They’d both lost people, and Jack knew deep down that if one of them went down, the other would too. 

“Yana? Your… Your old music teacher?” Jack nodded, and Tim crooked his head to the side. “Didn’t Granny make you stop seeing her back when we were like, twelve?” Tim’s hands absently rubbed at his knuckles, and Jack clenched his jaw. It’d been five years since Lou Ellen barred him and Tim from their lessons, but Jack never had the heart to tell him that he'd kept going to Yana. She’d become more than a music teacher, and Jack’s stomach started to ache again with grief. 

“She stopped charging for lessons after she’d heard Lou Ellen broke your hand for telling your piano teacher about what happened when we were kids.” Jack stared down at the broken tile of the bathroom, the toe of his shoe creasing as he crunched the porcelain. “I never told you so you wouldn’t get in trouble.” 

“What does this have to do with you being gone for a  _ week _ though, Jack? I mean… Sure, you were at Yana’s, but why not let me know that you were at least somewhere safe? You could have texted me or  _ something _ so I wasn’t sitting here-” 

“She died.” Jack cut Tim off before he could finish that sentence. He turned to look at Tim then, and he took a sick satisfaction watching the anger in Tim’s eyes turn to guilt. 

“O-Oh.” All of Tim’s confidence, or what little he did have, seemed to fade as he visibly deflated, hands knitting together. 

“A month ago. I… I didn’t know until I went over last week.” The tub’s rim was getting uncomfortable, so Jack stood up and ushered Tim aside so he could look in the mirror to admire Lou Ellen’s handiwork. “Landlord let me stay there a while to sort through her stuff.” A lie, but Jack had gotten good at that. 

“So… So you weren’t-” 

"I just lost track of time, you know? I had to leave 'cause the guy wanted to get the place ready for an estate sale so I came back. I wasn't getting high or drunk in some gutter." Jack rubbed his jaw as he looked himself over in the mirror, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eyes. Tim's slumped shoulders squared out and that look of subtle relief was replaced with frustration. _Gods, here we go..._

"Even so," Tim started. Jack didn't bother with turning around, favoring instead to watch his brother's face in the mirror. Tim didn't get like this often, and it happened so infrequently Jack knew he didn't need to pay much mind to it. Whatever Tim was about to vent about, he usually worked it out himself and would stop before Jack had to intercede. "You should've called me. I left messages. I-I texted you, Jack, and I know you saw them because your comm sends read receipts." Jack's eyes shot down to the sink. _Crap. I thought I switched off that setting._

"You're making a big deal out of nothing, Tim. So I was gone for a few days. What's the harm-" 

"Don't even start, Jack." Tim cut him off, and Jack raised a brow. Where did this sudden spark come from? "I'm... I'm so _tired_ of you dismissing this stuff. The shit you do affects me too. You don't get to just 'lose track of time', alright?" Jack looked back up at Tim's reflection and felt a rock settle in his belly. Tim looked upset and Jack knew deep down that it was his fault. "You left me here alone for a _week_ , Jack." 

"So?" Jack shrugged, trying to shove the guilt that was rising up in his throat back down his gullet. He didn't want to think about how he'd left Tim alone for so long- didn't want to think about what could have happened to him in this house when Jack wasn't there to protect him. 

" _So?_ Are you fucking serious Jack?" There was a bite to his words, and Jack's frown only got deeper. "When you're not here, Granny takes it out on me. You weren't there to help me- to, to keep her distracted-" 

"Oh," Jack turned around then, arms crossed. "I haven't done my job of keeping Lou Ellen distracted, huh? I don't know Tim, I'm pretty sure I've been doing a pretty good job of that- wouldn't you say so?" Jack gestured to the bruises littering his jaw and shirtless torso. 

"That's not what I was trying to- Jack, you don't get to be angry right now. I'm the one who should be angry, alright? You really hurt me, leaving me alone like that. It was a shit thing to do, Jack! You let me down, and I- I know bad stuff happens and you have to dip for a while. I _get_ that, but-" 

"You obviously don't if you're so upset about this." Jack countered, and Tim groaned, hands clenched into fists. If Tim was gonna go around saying that Jack had failed him and been a shit brother, Jack would show him just how wrong he was. Maybe a reminder of what would happen if Jack wasn't around all the time would set him straight?

"Will you just let me finish?" 

"If you're gonna keep crapping on me for stuff that's not my fault then no, Tim!" Jack raised his hands, shaking his head. "I know Lou Ellen's a bitch, alright? I know she hits you when I'm not around. Why do you think I always run my mouth and piss her off when I _am_ around? Huh?" As Jack's voice got louder, Tim's defiance became quieter. "If I take the worst of it, she'll leave you alone. She'll be too tired to do this to you." Jack pointed at his swollen eye. He could tell that Tim was losing steam for this argument. Obviously, Tim wouldn't resolve this on his own, though- his hands were still clenched at his side and jaw set. Tim would need Jack to shove him in the right direction. "You think I like ditching out on you? I don't! I hate not being here to protect you, Tim. I hate knowing that when I'm not around, Lou Ellen can do whatever she wants to you because you can't stand up for yourself." 

"That's not-" Tim's voice barely broke through Jack's rant, but oh did it make Jack feel worse. 

"Oh you know that's how it goes, Tim. Who's always there for you when people bully you, when those jerks from school try to beat you up or steal from you? Who's the one that looks out for you and brings home extra food from the cafeteria? Who's the one that goes out and _works_ so you don't have to worry about Lou Ellen not paying the bills each month?" Tim's silence made the edge to Jack's voice sharper. "Who, Tim? Answer me. Who's the one that's always looking out for you?" 

"...You." It was hardly a whisper. 

"I, what?" Jack jutted his head out and cupped his ear. "Didn't hear you there, kiddo." 

"You are- you're... you're the one that looks out for me." Jack nodded and leaned back against the bathroom sink, crossing his arms. 

"That's right. And if I have to dip for a few days, I'm gonna. I think I deserve to go out and deal with my own crap every once in a while. Don't you think so?" Tim nodded, and Jack clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "You oughta be grateful for all the work I do around here, Tim." Tim continued to nod, and Jack turned back to look in the mirror so he could finish applying ointment to his bruises. "Sure, you do the cleaning and junk, but I'm the one taking your beatings and cleaning up the _other_ messes you make." 

Jack hardly noticed the tears building in Tim's eyes, too focused on his own reflection and the patchwork of red and purple. That is, until he heard a pathetic sniffle behind him. Jack's eyes shot up to Tim- and what he saw made the guilt he tried oh so hard to shut out come flooding back in. _Did I do that?_

"I-I'm sorry, Jack." Tim said softly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. "I didn't... I didn't think-" Jack sighed and put the ointment down, turning back around so he could face Tim fully. "I didn't think about what... what you do for me-" 

"No, you didn't think." Without waiting for a reply, Jack stepped forward and pulled his twin into a hug. Their hugs weren't an often occurrence- Jack just wasn't a touchy-feely kind of guy, but this definitely called for a hug. "But it's okay, Tim. I forgive you." It was Tim in the wrong, right? Tim went and accused Jack of stepping out- of _failing_ him. That wasn't his fault. None of what Lou Ellen did was Jack's fault. He deserved to grieve and deal with Yana's death on his own time. He deserved to be his own person and disappear for a few days every once in a while. "C'mon, I'll make ya a frozen pizza. You want sausage or mushroom?"  Tim sniffed, and rubbed his eyes when Jack pulled away. 

"Do... Do we have any pineapple?" Jack made a disgusted face, but it was a comical one that made Tim laugh softly. Good. If Tim was laughing that meant things were okay again.

"I'll never know why you like that crap, but yeah. I think we've got a can of pineapple for you." Jack patted Tim's shoulder. "Lou Ellen should be passed out in bed, why don't you go out to the kitchen and heat up the oven? I'll be out there soon." 

"Alright." Tim nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Jack could tell there was something still stirring about in that kid's head, so he cleared his throat. 

"And Tim?" Said boy looked up from the floor and Jack offered him a small smile. "We'll be okay. I'm gonna make sure of that." 


End file.
